


A Little Mess

by suburbanmotel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Break Up, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Lots of kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, OT5 Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:30:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suburbanmotel/pseuds/suburbanmotel
Summary: On the coldest, potentially happiest night of the year, two heartbroken boys find their way back to each other.Eventually.





	A Little Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TMH101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMH101/gifts).



> Hello lovely recipient! Of your three prompts, the one about the boys breaking up and reuniting is the one that jumped out at me most enthusiastically. I had a lot of fun writing it — it’s much longer than originally planned! — and I hope you enjoy reading it :)

//

_The world isn’t over yet_  
_We’ve still got a chance to place our bets_  
_We both made a little mess_  
_Nothing our two hearts can’t put back_  
_I’ll never love you less_  
_Don’t let your worries second guess_  
_We’ll start over fresh, living a life with no regrets_  
_Living a life with no regrets_

//

**10— LIAM**

The world is very bright. Too bright. Painfully bright. It’s big and bright and painful. Sunlight is shining directly into Liam’s face and it really hurts. He groans and rolls over, stretches until his spine cracks. He yawns. His mouth tastes like smoke and about 57 tequila shots. He squints and groans again. What day is it?

“It’s Sunday!” There’s a voice in his ear. A loud voice. An annoying voice right in his ear. Liam winces and flails, his leaden arms rising and attempting to push off a warm, heavy, annoying body that is simultaneously lying on him and bouncing around him. His bed squeaks and shudders alarmingly.

“Louis,” he says. It’s Louis. Of course it’s Louis. Who else would it be. Liam closes his eyes and tries to roll over. A heavy bouncing body won’t let him.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Liam,” Louis says, directly in his ear again. “Time to get up.”

“Why.” Liam tries to burrow his head under his pillow. His head feels like it weighs 600 pounds and it won’t fit. Louis yanks the pillow away and throws it somewhere across the room. Sunlight is everywhere. It’s burning Liam alive. He will be dead soon and it’s all Louis’ fault.

“Big night tonight!” Louis crows. Has his voice always been this loud? And annoying? Liam thinks as hard as his brain will allow. Yes, he thinks. Yes. Louis has always been like this. Forever.

“Big night _last_ night, if I remember right,” Liam says. His tongue feels stupidly big in his stupidly dry mouth. He’d kill for a glass of water right now. He’d kill Louis, happily, but then who would get him water?

“Oh last night will pale in comparison to this night. This upcoming night,” Louis says. He stops bouncing at last and flops down next to Liam. Louis is on his side, staring directly into Liam’s face. He’s grinning like an idiot.

“I don’t want to think about tonight. I can barely remember last night,” Liam says. He gives up on sleep and quiet and life in general because Louis is clearly not going anywhere soon.

“Last night was dress rehearsal. Last night was a mere shadow of things to come. _Last_ night—”

“Yes. Yes. Ok. Got it.” Liam scrubs at his face. Last night is a wash of colour and noise and bodies in a house and much alcohol. Much too much alcohol. He remembers Louis shaming him about wanting to stay in and dragging him out and ordering him to have fun after weeks of moping about and he doesn’t remember much after that. He’s very frightened of a repeat tonight. “If I agree to go will you leave me alone? For like, an hour, so I can sleep? And by agreeing to go I mean until 10 or something. Maybe 11 at the latest. Maybe.”

Louis starts laughing like the maniac he is. He actually grabs his stomach and doubles over and kicks his feet like a cartoon character. “You’ve forgotten,” he says as his giggles die down. He looks at Liam with fondness and exasperation. “You’ve actually forgotten what tonight is.”

“Louis, I’ve pretty much forgotten my own bloody name at this point,” Liam says. He pulls the sheet away from his body and peers down at himself. He’s wearing boxers. Thanks goodness for small miracles.

Louis leaps to his feet with the nimble agility of a dancer and starts jumping again. Liam is suddenly very nauseous.

“It’s New Year’s Eve!” Louis says. He looks manic. Liam closes his eyes. He hopes, irrationally, that when he opens them Louis will be gone. He opens his eyes. He sighs. Louis cocks his head, then cocks his hips. Liam groans.

“Oh my god. Is it really?”

“Yes it is. Really.”

“Then why did we go out _last_ night?” Liam feels green. “And why did I drink so much _last_ night?”

Louis sighs. “Because, dear friend, you’ve been sad. For weeks. And yesterday was the breaking point for me and I made an executive decision and I took you out and we had a glorious, wonderful, earth-shattering—”

“Drunken—”

“ _Extremely_ drunken time.” Louis grins. “And you forgot all about your troubles, didn’t you?”

Liam closes his eyes. He sighs. “I guess. Being blackout drunk will do that.” He swallows hard. “But I can’t do it again tonight. I just can’t. And it’s a stupid night, anyway, a stupid pointless night that means nothing in the grand scheme of things and tomorrow is just another year, another number that means nothing except more heartbreak and misery and—”

“Liam.”

Liam looks up. Louis is looking down. He’s using his Serious Expression.

“Louis.”

“You’re not staying in on New Year’s Eve.”

“That was the plan.”

“Well that plan sucks, mate.” Louis swings his arms wide. “New Year’s Eve!” He says it like a prayer. “New year, new you and all that good stuff.”

“That is so fucking corny.”

“Corny but _true_.”

“There’s no point, Louis. I mean, thanks and all for last night and all, but I just. I.” He finds himself dangerously, stupidly close to tears. He throws one arm over his face and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Louis drops down beside him, shuffling close and pushing his face into Liam’s shoulder. He’s blessedly quiet for a moment, just letting Liam breathe and sniffle.

“I know it’s been hard, mate,” Louis says and his voice is oh so nice and quiet. “I know better than anyone, yeah? I’ve been here the whole time. I was here the night you two, you know.” He sighs. “I know how much you loved him and I know how much you miss him still and I know Zayn still—”

“Louis.” Liam’s voice and sharp and low and dangerous.

“I know He Who Shall Not Be Named is just as fucking miserable because Harry and Niall have told me as much, so whatever the fuck happened between you two is messing him up just as—”

“ _Louis_ ,” and this time Liam’s voice is small and shaky and stupid and now he really _is_ going to cry fuck it all.

“So because I’ve been subjected to the gigantic shitshow that is your romantic life, and because I’m such a wonderful, loving and generous friend, I’m granting you the gift and, dare I say, _privilege_ of ringing in the New Year with me.”

Liam sighs. He can feel his lips twitch up.

“ _Outside_ of these four sad walls,” Louis adds unnecessarily.

Liam waits. Louis watches him wait.

“But…he’s not going to be there, right?”

“Who?” Louis is a damn fine actor. Liam has to give him that.

“You know who. This isn’t some elaborate trick to get us in the same room or something, right?” Liam struggles to sit up a bit. “I mean you, my closest _mate_ would never ever do that to me, right?”

Louis pulls his best “who me” face and actually manages to convince Liam for a moment that this might be a good idea. They stare at each other.

“You’re not going to let me say no are you.” It’s not a question. Liam knows he’s going. Louis knows that Liam knows. They both know.

Liam surrenders, with dignity. “Is this a formal affair? Do I need to wear a tie?”

Louis _grins._

//

_I’ve got my issues, I admit that_  
_You got some fears that hold you back_  
_But we are acting like we’re children_  
_Looking to blame for what we lack_

//

**9.— ZAYN**

The world is very bright. Too bright. Painfully bright. It’s big and bright and painful. Sunlight is shining directly into Zayn’s face and it really hurts. He groans and rolls over, stretches until his spine cracks. He yawns. His mouth tastes like an ashtray. He really needs to quit smoking. That’s a good resolution to consider, along with abstinence from pretty much everything else . He squints and groans again. What day is it?

“Rise and shine! Up and at ‘em! Pip pip and all that jazz!” There’s a booming voice followed by much-too-loud footsteps followed, blessedly, by a large mug of steaming tea thrust under his nose. The aroma almost makes up for the noise and the disruption.

Almost.

Zayn maneuvers himself into a sitting position, head pounding, eyes still closed, and sips at his tea. Thank god. Harry still remembers exactly how he likes it.

“First, drink this. Second, go and pick out a killer outfit, babe,” Harry says, with a loud _smack_ to Zayn’s cheek. “We have a party to attend.”

“No. No we don’t,” says Zayn. He’s pretty sure he said no to this ludicrous notion last night when it was first presented at the party Niall and Harry dragged him to kicking and screaming. He remembers fairly clearly saying there was no way in hell he was going to be in any shape to attend a New Year’s party after he’d already vomited once by nine last night. But he also remembers Niall shoving another beer into his hand and a lot of yelling and laughing and very reluctant dancing on his part and everything is a blur after that.

“You had fun last night, right?” Niall is snuggled up close, his head on Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn would normally be irritated but it’s _Niall_.

“I don’t remember,” he says sourly. “I _do_ remember throwing up, in someone’s shoes, I’m pretty sure.” He shudders.

Niall and Harry burst out laughing. “Yeah, mate. Those were your own. We brought them home. They’re waiting on the porch for further instruction.”

Zayn sighs. With friends like these.

“Well I know you had fun last night because you told me so, at least six times,” Harry says. “You said, and I’m quoting here, Harry, you said, I am having so much fucking fun. Thank you, Harry, for making me go out and have fun. This is fun. Fun, fun fun, you said.”

“I really don’t think I said anything like that.”

“You did, though,” Niall says, nodding vigorously against Zayn, jostling his tea.

Zayn groans. “But I went out last night. I did. I went out for you guys and I did my part and I don’t see why I have to go out again tonight.”

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve!” his best mates shout together, one on either side of him, loudly, in his ears.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zayn says, sipping as calmly as he can. His headache is starting to abate, just a tiny bit. He feels almost human again. He’s trying his best to be patient. He loves his friends. He really does. He’s trying hard to remember why just now. “It’s just another stupid, pointless night. If it’s about partying, I can party with you two lunatics any night of the year, really.”

“Like tonight!” Niall says.

“No, not like _tonight_ ,” Zayn corrects. “I didn’t mean tonight. I meant any other night. That’s _not_ tonight.”

“Listen Zaynie,” Harry says. He’s put on his Patient Dad Voice that is normally reserved for explaining the merits of fresh vegetables, or safe sex, or regular flossing. “You’re mad if you think we’re going out and leaving you here alone to be sad on what is potentially the happiest night of the year.”

“Since when is New Year’s the happiest night of the year?” Zayn is genuinely curious. “And who says I’d be sad? I’d be fucking _sleeping_ , which would make me fucking _happy_.”

He senses more than sees Niall and Harry exchange a knowing glance. He doesn’t want to ask so he doesn’t. He knows they’ll let him in on their little theory eventually. They always do. Because they all love each other _so_ much.

“We know,” Harry begins. He pauses, picking the right words, Zayn figures. “We know how difficult these past few weeks have been, right? We get it.”

“We really do,” Niall adds. He continues in a quieter voice. “We know how much you loved.” He stops. “Cared for.” He stops again, puzzling.

“Loved,” Harry says firmly, and then with emphasis. “Still _love_. Arguably.”

Zayn’s heart stutters in his chest. He suddenly wishes very much that he was anywhere but here, in this house, in this room, sandwiched between these two people he loves a whole lot but who are currently attempting to give him a stroke.

“I don’t. I don’t love. I mean I did, of course. He. Liam.” He shuts up, his jaw closing with a click. He hasn’t actually said that name out loud in exactly 17 days. It hurts. It hurts his vocal chords, that particular combination of vowels and consonants. He swallows roughly. He will not cry.

Niall hugs his arm and Harry strokes his cheek. It’s oddly soothing so he doesn’t complain. He holds his mug in his hands so he won’t tremble too much and thinks of something to say, anything to say to move the conversation along to a different subject.

“Good tea,” he finally whispers.

“Oh Zaynie,” Harry says. “It’s going to be ok.”

“It is,” Niall says. “We promise.”

Zayn laughs. That, too, hurts his throat.

“So, this party,” Harry says, smooth as anything, the bastard. “We’re gonna be there for nine or so, yes? All three of us.”

“You bet,” Niall says. “It’s gonna be great, Zayn. It is. Three Musketeers.”

“What about Louis?”

“Who?” Harry says and he even manages to sound innocent.

Zayn sighs. “Louis. Your crush. Our fourth Musketeer. Liam’s—“ He stops. Fuck. “ _His_ best mate. Don’t tell me you’re spending the Happiest Night of the Year without even the possibility of kissing Louis right on the mouth.”

Harry goes still and silent, and Zayn is almost pleased to see the colour drain from his cheeks. _Take that._

“Louis and Li—” Harry says and Niall clears his throat in a warning. Harry starts again. “Those two guys are doing their own thing tonight, apparently.” Harry sounds a bit sad at that, but Zayn manages to not care. “There’s a million parties out there tonight, Zaynie. It’s highly unlikely we’ll all end up at the same one.”

“But not impossible,” Zayn says. He stares into the depths of his tea, its murkiness reflecting his mood. He just wants to sleep, for a long time.

“Well, _nothing_ is impossible,” Harry uses his Patient Dad Voice. “I can’t make any promises about that, Zayn, You know that. I mean the universe works in mysterious ways.”

“Mysterious ways,” Niall echoes, nodding sagely.

Zayn sighs, defeated. He really does love them, despite everything. “Help me pick an outfit, Harry,” he says, resigned. He knows when he’s beat.

Harry jumps up immediately and claps his hands together briskly. “Well,” he says. He’s positively beaming. “First we start with black skinny jeans, ripped, and a cool shirt, the black skull one, because it’s your favourite and you look hot as fuck in it.”

Zayn shakes his head. He even smiles. “I don’t want to look hot as fuck. I don’t _need_ to look—”

“New Year’s Eve,” Niall reminds him, unnecessarily. “Midnight. Kiss.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Zayn groans and drops his head and not for the first time wonders what he’s done to piss off the mysterious universe.

//

The party is in full swing when they arrive. Some people look like they’ve been drinking since noon, or the day before, or have never stopped since uni started. It’s hard to tell. Zayn frowns. His stomach is still churning and the cloying scent of booze is making him nauseous. His good friends seem to anticipate this because he almost immediately has a drink thrust into his limp hand. His boys stick by him for the first hour, making small talk over the thumping music, and flanking Zayn so he doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to.

But eventually the novelty of Protecting Zayn wears off and both Harry and Niall disappear into the crowds. It’s hot. It’s loud. Zayn has no desire to get drunk after last night’s fiasco. He’d really just like to get home but he also has no idea where he is and he doesn’t have his wallet. He wanders and sips his drink and nods at people he vaguely recognizes. He checks his phone and laments his life choices. He contemplates finding a quiet spot, an empty bedroom (ha) where he can lie down and wait for it all to be over. He sits for awhile and just observes, but when that gets too boring, he wanders from room to room, finding no place where he belongs and nowhere to settle. He’s just about to say fuck it and get wasted again when he sees him. He’s across the room, out of nowhere, standing there bright and bold as anything, larger than life, but still the same beautiful Liam, wearing ripped jeans and a blue hoodie, drink in hand, Louis by his side. Zayn thinks back to the last time he saw him, in passing on campus, several feet away, backpack slung over one shoulder, head down, walking to class. He’s pretty sure Liam hadn’t seen him, but all the air had been sucked out of his lungs but he’d managed to keep moving, one foot in front of the other and again and again and once more until he was far enough away that he could breathe again. And the time before that? Well. He doesn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not ever.

Now Zayn stands still, one hand gripping his red cup, the other gripping the door frame. He can feel the vibrations of the music through the wood, through his fingertips, up his arm, into his erratic heart. Liam isn’t looking his way, not yet. There’s still time to move, time to get away, but he can’t. He can’t move at all. He just stands there like an idiot, staring at this boy and his soft, beautiful profile and shorn hair (that’s new it wasn’t that short when he’d passed him this looks like something he’s done to himself in the bathroom after a night of drunken revelry) but he still looks so good, so very good. Zayn can’t look away and he can’t move and he really doesn’t know what to do.

His dilemma is solved by someone slamming into his side and slinging a heavy arm over his shoulders.

“Hey sweet cheeks, found your midnight kiss yet?” Wet boozy smelling lips are at his ear and sharp fingers dig into that spot just below his ribs. Zayn sloshes beer all over his sexy-as-fuck black T-shirt and swears loudly.

“Niall, for fuck’s sakes.”

“Ahhhh you love me. I know you do.” Niall plants a very wet, sloppy kiss on Zayn’s jaw and gives him a tight squeeze before vanishing into the crowd once more, leaving Zayn with a half-empty cup and a damp shirt and a foul mood. Of course it’s then that Liam turns his head a fraction of an inch and makes direct eye contact with Zayn. Liam’s eyes widen comically in surprise, his entire body going straight and stiff, his elbow jerking into Louis’ side. Before Louis can also turn and see him, Zayn makes the decision he’s been debating all night. He’s leaving. He must leave. He’s going. He’s going now. It’s time to go. Right _now_.

He turns and stumbles in the direction of the kitchen, knowing that’s where he’ll find Harry, where he always finds Harry, surrounded by admirers of both sexes as he drinks and laughs and tells stories and generally enchants everyone in his immediate vicinity. He’s there now, perched on a countertop, drink in hand, mid-joke, eyes half-lidded. Zayn pushes people out of the way to get to him.

“Harry. _Harry_. I’m leaving. Like I’m going home. Where are we? How far is it? I can walk right?” He stops to take a breath.

Harry stops talking and focuses on him, slowly. “Zaynie. Baby. How are you? Are you having a good time?”

“No I’m not having a fucking good time,” Zayn hisses. “Liam is here. He’s _here_ , Harry. He’s exactly where you promised he would not be and now I do not want to be here and I’m walking home.”

Harry focuses fully. “Liam’s…here?” He slides off the counter and stands, wobbly. “Is…is Louis here, too?”

“Oh my god, Harry. Yes. Yes. They’re both here. Worlds are colliding. The universe is shrinking and will soon implode and I’m leaving before that happens.”

“Zaynie. Sweetie. We took a cab here, remember? You can’t walk. It’s like, the coldest night of the year, or something. I heard it on the news today. You’d freeze. It’s bad luck to start the new year frozen to death.” Harry is talking to Zayn but he’s on his tiptoes and craning his neck to see around him. “Where were they standing? Like, at the front of the house?”

Zayn closes his eyes briefly and shoves his hands into his pockets as far as he can so he doesn’t punch anything. Or anyone. Harry links an arm through Zayn’s and pulls him close.

“Don’t worry so much. It’s ok. It’s not the end of the world, right? He’s just a silly boy who didn’t appreciate you and you’re both out trying to have a good time on the last night of a shitty year and as your best mate I promised you a good time. And I’m going to deliver. Let’s just get it over with and then it will be over with and you can get on with your life.” He smiles, with dimples. “Show me where he is. Just show me. You don’t have to talk to Li— the other guy. I won’t make you. I just want to see.” Harry is halfway drunk, Zayn realizes, which is the only reason this disaster is happening right now.

He yanks Zayn in the direction of where he’d last seen Liam and Zayn is too weak and tired to protest much. The noise around them is getting louder and more frantic, bodies pushing closer. Someone raises a cup and bellows, “Two minutes, everyone!”

Two minutes, Zayn thinks dumbly. Two minutes for what?

And then they’re standing right in front of the two people he was hoping to never see again. Louis is staring at Harry with a strange expression on his face and Harry is staring back with a big dumb smile on his face and Zayn decides to ignore them. He has his own problems.

Harry speaks first. “Well look at this, all of us in the same place on—”

“The happiest night of the year,” Louis finishes. He takes a long sip of his drink. He keeps looking at Harry. Harry keeps looking back.

Zayn stops staring at his feet and finally looks up. Liam is looking right at him. His face is completely still and stiff. Zayn knows him, knows his eyes and how soft they can look at times and right now they’re hard as stone.

Zayn doesn’t know what to do so he kind of nods at Liam, like a spasm but Liam just keeps staring at him like he’s never seen such a creature in all his days.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks Louis and it sounds like a come on. A big, sweaty, sweetly beer-scented come on.

“Yes. What are you doing here?” Liam echoes, only and it’s aimed at Zayn and it comes out as a hiss. “Lou said. He _promised_ me you weren’t going to be here. That’s why I agreed to come. The _only_ reason.”

Zayn stiffens. His face feels hot. He feels oddly like crying. “Well, the same for me, actually. Both Harry and Niall said there’s like a million parties and that there’d be no chance of running into you because I told them that would ruin my entire night.”

“Same here.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Look at you two talking,” Harry says, eyes flicking in their direction. He smiles benevolently. “I knew you could be civil if given the chance.”

Zayn glares at Liam. Liam glares at Zayn. The voices around them rise and rise. It’s starting.

10-9-8—

Liam looks around rather frantically. He backs up a bit, away from Zayn.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks against his better judgment. “Looking for an escape?”

Liam looks taken aback. “No. No—”

—7-6-5—

Zayn steps away too, exaggeratedly. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice all sarcasm and disdain. “I certainly don’t expect you to fucking _kiss_ me or anything.”

Liam’s mouth drops at that. He recovers enough to snap: “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last person on earth right now.”

—4-3—

And it _hurts_. It hurts and Zayn swallows hard against the lump in his throat. The world is closing in. It’s getting smaller and tighter and hotter and louder and everything is swirling and fading. And—

“Zaynie?” He hears Harry’s voice, close and distant at once. “Hey. You ok?” But Zayn can’t breathe and he can’t see and fuck the happiest night of the year because this sucks.

—2—

“ _Zayn_.”

1—

//

_Before we lose everything we have tomorrow_  
_Can we forget what went wrong yesterday, darling_

//

**8— LIAM**

The world is very bright. Too bright. Painfully bright. It’s big and bright and painful. Sunlight is shining directly into Liam’s face and it really hurts. He groans and rolls over, stretches until his spine cracks. He yawns. His mouth tastes like beer and ashtrays. Did he smoke last night? He can’t remember. He squints and groans again. What day is it?

What _year_ is it?

“It’s Sunday!” There’s a voice in his ear. A loud voice. An annoying voice right in his ear. Liam winces and flails, his leaden arms rising and attempting to push off a warm, heavy, annoying body that is simultaneously lying on him and bouncing around him. His bed squeaks and shudders alarmingly.

“Louis,” he says. It’s Louis. Of course it’s Louis. Who else would it be. Liam closes his eyes and tries to roll over. A heavy bouncing body won’t let him.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Liam,” Louis says, directly in his ear again. “Time to get up.”

“Why.” Liam tries to burrow his head under his pillow. His head feels like it weighs 600 pounds and it won’t fit. Louis yanks the pillow away and throws it somewhere across the room. Sunlight is everywhere. It’s burning Liam alive. He will be dead soon and it’s all Louis’ fault.

“Big night tonight!” Louis crows in his loud and annoying voice.

“Big night _last_ night, if I remember right. Jesus. _And_ the night before,” Liam says. His tongue feels stupidly big in his stupidly dry mouth. He kill for a glass of water right now. He’d kill Louis, happily, but then who would get him water? “Happy New Year, blah blah. New year new me, and all that. Now go away.”

Louis stops bouncing. “What?”

Liam looks up at him. “What?”

“What are you on about?” Louis plops down beside him. The bed heaves. Liam frowns.

“New Year’s Eve. Last night. We went out. Well, you dragged me out. Against my much better judgment.” He stops. Takes a deep breath. “Harry was there. You two made googly eyes at each other.”

Louis blushes. “I _wish_ , mate.” He peers at Liam. “Are you all right?”

“Zayn was there, too. It was awful.” Liam drops his head back on the mattress, body going hot and cold at the memory. Zayn staring at him like he fucking _hated_ him, like he would rather have seen anyone there besides him. Liam screws his eyes shut and wills himself not to cry. He won’t cry. He won’t care. He’s done caring. About anything, anyone.

“Liam. Mate.” Louis scoots up closer. “It’s New Year’s Eve day. Today. Tonight is New Year’s Eve. I mean, I know I got you wasted last night, but it wasn’t _that_ bad, was it? Oh my god. Is it brain damage?” He places a hand on Liam’s forehead because that’s how you can tell if someone has brain damage in Louis’ world.

“Louis. Stop fucking around. We went out last night.”

“Yes we did indeed. A right banger, too. But tonight is the big one. I’m telling you, Liam, you won’t forget tonight long as you live. We’ll ring it in proper. Even find you someone to snog at midnight.”

Wait.

Through the haze of blinding sun and debilitating hangover Liam thinks very very hard about last night, about what he remembers. How much _had_ he had to drink?

“But it’s New Year’s Day.” He says it with as much conviction as he can muster. It sounds pretty feeble.

Louis shakes his head emphatically. “Nope. Sorry. Come on. Up up up. Let’s get some food into you, settle your stomach so you can start all over again tonight.”

“But Zayn—” The name feels strange in his mouth after not saying it for so long. Well, 17 days. Long enough for him, too long.

“He won’t be there, I promise. I think the lads are going to take him out somewhere, but not where we’re going, ok? No worries there.”

“But—” Liam presses a hand to his racing heart. He closes his eyes. He’s not going crazy. He’s not.

Suddenly Louis is pressed close beside him. “Look. I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been there. I know you two were…well. Really close. But it happens to the best of us. It’s time to get out there and see what happens, yeah?”

“Happiest night of the year,” Liam says softly.

“That’s the spirit!” Louis laughs. “Don’t give…him another thought.” Liam’s stomach drops. “He clearly doesn’t deserve you.”

Liam doesn’t reply. It hurts too much.

“He’ll regret it one day, I guarantee it,” Louis says, grinding Liam’s heart into a fine dust with each word. “Why did you two break up again?” Louis sounds genuinely curious and it’s probably because Liam has never really spoken about it. Didn’t. Couldn’t.

Liam frowns. He twists his lips in concentration. He thinks very, very hard but nothing is coming to him. He knows it was Zayn’s idea, but the details are gone. He’s blocked them out, he thinks. Finally he shrugs, one-shoulder, all casual like he doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He doesn’t want to think about _anything_. Suddenly another night out sounds like exactly what he needs. It sounds perfect.

“Let’s eat,” he says.

Louis slaps him on the shoulder. It’s meant to be in commiseration, Liam thinks, but it fucking hurts.

“Come on, Liam,” Louis says, grabbing his hand and yanking. “Let’s go let’s go let’s _go_.”

//

The party is in full swing when they arrive. Some people look like they’ve been drinking since noon, or the day before, or have never stopped since uni started. It’s hard to tell. Liam frowns. His stomach is still churning and the cloying scent of booze is making him nauseous. His good friends seem to anticipate this because he almost immediately has a drink thrust into his limp hand. Louis sticks by him for the first hour, making small talk over the thumping music, and flanking Liam so he doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to.

Partly because he’s tired and his head hurts but also because it’s all so weirdly, oddly familiar, all of it. The house, that Louis swears he’s never been to, neither of them have, is completely familiar. He knows where the loos are without being told. He knows the layout, the fact that the second step on the porch is broken before Louis trips on it, he knows the smells, the track list, the fact the Louis is casually not so casually scanning the crowds for someone but won’t admit it. Liam feels dizzy and nauseous and refuses to leave Louis’ side, even as the night progresses and Louis gets progressively drunker.

“You gotta circulate,” Louis says at last. “It’s the only way to meet people”

“I don’t want to meet people. I don’t even want to be here.”

“Just find someone to kiss at midnight.”

“I don’t want to kiss someone at midnight.”

“Let someone kiss _you_.”

“I don’t _want_ anyone to kiss me.”

“Lots of fish in the ocean,” Louis says, ignoring him while downing another shot. ”Look around, mate. All these lucky people just waiting for your Luscious Liam Lips.”

And it’s while Louis is making this impassioned speech that it happens. Liam knows it’s going to happen before it does because it has already happened. He turns his head a fraction of an inch and there he is, standing in the doorway across the room, red cup in hand, staring right back at him. Zayn. Looking fucking gorgeous as ever in black jeans and a black shirt, the one with the skull, hair tousled, eyes wide with something like shock, gripping the doorframe like he’s about to pass out. And he hasn’t seen him since that day on campus when they’d passed one another on the way to class, Zayn’s head down in concentration (but had he glanced his way, even briefly? Liam couldn’t tell for sure), breath puffing around his face, looking tired but beautiful. And then they’d passed one another like nothing, like they’d never met, like any strangers do on any given day. No, Liam hadn’t seen him since that day. Until last nigh, that is.

Liam’s elbow has a life of its own and jabs Louis in the side.

“What. What is it? You spot a potential?” And he looks too. “Oh. Not a potential, then. A past potential.” He sighs deeply. “Sorry, Liam. I really didn’t think they’d show.”

Liam opens his mouth to say, Oh but I did, Louis, I certainly fucking knew they’d show because it already fucking happened last fucking night, but he doesn’t say anything because, just like before, Zayn turns and bolts like he’s just seen the devil himself.

“I feel sick,” Liam says to no one in particular.

“It’s always hard, the first few times at least,” Louis says, trying to sound empathetic. But he’s doing that neck craning eye scanning thing again and Liam kind of hates him for it.

“Don’t worry,” he says faintly. “Harry will be here in a minute.”

“How do you—”

“Oh look,” Liam says. “There he is now.” And he laughs, a little hysterically.”

“Are you ok?”

“You believe in déjà vu, Lou?” Liam says. “That rhymes. Déjà vu Lou. Déjà vu _Lou_ —”

But he stops then because Zayn is standing right in front of him, and if looks could kill.

Liam opens his mouth. Say something, his brain screams. Say something. Anything.

“Come here often?” he says.

Zayn just stares. His hands are curled into tight balls at his sides.

“Why are you here?” Zayn says. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Me either,” Liam whispers, because he really doesn’t. Beside him he sees Louis and Harry grinning at each other like right idiots. Harry actually _licks his lips_ and Louis looks enchanted.

10-9-8—

“Look at you two talking,” Harry says, eyes flicking in their direction. He smiles benevolently. “I knew you could be civil if given the chance.”

—7-6-5—

“Why is this happening?” Zayn says, more to himself than anything. Liam opens his mouth again but nothing emerges. The voices get louder and louder still. He feels sick. He might vomit.

—4—

“Zayn,” he says. He needs to ask him, suddenly, quickly, he needs to find out what happened and why they broke up and why Zayn didn’t want him anymore and the sudden urgency is overwhelming but it’s all just slipping away, too fast, too fast.

Again.

—3-2—

“ _Zayn_.”

1—

 

//

_The world isn’t over yet_  
_We’ve still got a chance to place our bets_  
_We both made a little mess_  
_Nothing our two hearts can’t put back_  
_I’ll never love you less_  
_Don’t let your worries second guess_  
_We’ll start over fresh, living a life with no regrets_  
_Living a life with no regrets_

//

**7— ZAYN**

The world is very bright. Too bright. Painfully bright. It’s big and bright and painful. Sunlight is shining directly into Zayn’s face and it really hurts. He groans and rolls over, stretches until his spine cracks. He yawns. His mouth tastes like he smoked 100 cigarettes last night and it’s quite possible he did. He squints and groans again. What day is it?

“Rise and shine! Up and at ‘em! Pip pip and all that jazz!” There’s a booming voice followed by much too loud footsteps followed, blessedly, by a large mug of steaming tea thrust under his nose. The aroma almost makes up for the noise and the disruption.

Almost.

Zayn maneuvers himself into a sitting position, head pounding, eyes still closed, and sips at his tea. Thank god. Harry still remembers exactly how he likes it.

“You drink that and thank about a killer outfit for tonight, babe,” Harry says, with a loud _smack_ to Zayn’s cheek. “We have a party to attend.”

“No we don’t,” Zayn says, sure of this one fact only. “No more parties for me. Two nights in a row makes Zayn a very grumpy boy.”

Niall and Harry look at each other. “Two nights?”

Zayn nods. “That awful vomit inducing one and then New Year’s. No. No more. Your plan to kill me has been successfully thwarted, sorry.” He pauses. “Plus, I’m not even going to discuss the fact that He was there. He. Him. The one you promised would not be there was there and it will be a good, long while before I trust either of you assholes again, so.”

Niall carefully settles himself at Zayn’s side, carefully pats his leg. “Zaynie. Today is New Year’s Eve day. The party is tonight.”

Zayn looks at them, closely. Waits for the punchline. There doesn’t seem to be one coming. He sips his tea. Waits some more.

“Happy New Year?” he says, tentatively.

“Sorry mate. You ok?” Harry strokes his matted hair. “You need a shower by the way, before we head out. No one is going to want to run their fingers through _that_ tonight.”

“No one is going to run their fingers through it at all because I’m not going anywhere. Again.” He gives each of them a solid glare. “Enough joking. Thanks for the tea. I love you both. Happy New Year. Now fuck off.”

Niall sighs and pulls out his phone, waves it in Zayn’s tired face. The date reads Sunday, Dec. 31, 2017. Zayn blinks. He laughs nervously.

“I don’t understand. We. We all went out last night. The party. Niall got hammered.” Niall seems to like that and nods enthusiastically. “Louis and. _Him_. They were both there. Harry flirted with Louis.” Harry, too, approves of this detail and grins. “But Liam.” Zayn swallows. “We just stared at each other. He wanted to get far away from me. He. We.”

Harry strokes his hair some more. They both look at him with a mixture of pity and concern.

“Come on, babe,” Harry says. “Hop in the shower and we’ll get you looking fantastic for tonight. Black T-shirt, yeah? Sexy skull? Total babe magnet.”

“I don’t want to be a total babe magnet. I want to be asleep. In my bed. Right here.”

“Sorry, mate,” Niall says, and now they’re both tugging on him, spilling tea everywhere. They don’t seem to care. Zayn cares. It’s his bed.

“If you think we’re leaving you here alone to sulk and cry on the happiest—” Harry begins with enthusiasm.

“—night of the year. Potentially,” Zayn finishes, rather sadly. He’s so confused.

“You got it,” Harry says. He’s on his feet now, pulling harder. Zayn surrenders. There’s no point. He’s been here before, he knows the drill. “Get up beautiful. Tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

//

It’s the same. All of it. Zayn swears it is. The same house, the same music, the same people. He’s wearing the same clothes, drinking the same drink, feeling the same feeling, which is extremely fucking annoyed. He wanders in a daze after Harry and Niall abandon him once again, watches the girl in the sparkly tiara and gold sparkly top crying into her friend’s shoulder because cute blonde boy left with someone else, again. He knows wife-beater-shirt guy puts his fist through the wall behind the brown couch and knocks a framed photo to the floor with a smash before it happens, knows he breaks his fingers and stares at them uncomprehendingly before he realizes he’s also going to need stitches.

“George!” someone yells, scandalized, then laughs, hysterically. George, Zayn thinks. Yes. That’s right.

Zayn wonders if he’s having some kind of seizure. He wonders if this is what hell is. Maybe he’s in hell. Then he’s positive he is because he turns and there’s Liam, across the room, standing with Louis who is sucking back shots and gesturing happily while Liam stares down moodily into his drink. Zayn freezes and grips the doorframe, watches the former love of his life from a distance near and far, heart shoving up into his throat, feet planted like cement on the worn carpet. It’s the same. All of it the same.

How can it be all the same.

And then there’s Niall slamming into him again (how could he have forgotten _that_ ) and there’s beer on his shirt and a wet kiss on his face and when Liam looks over and locks eyes with him Zayn just shakes his head slightly and smiles a bit because he can’t not. How can he not? It’s all so fucking absurd and only in Zayn’s messed up love life would this happen. He turns and heads to the kitchen, finds Harry surrounded by his admirers, just like before. He pulls him off the counter roughly, puts his mouth to his ear.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” he yells.

Harry grins. “I know. Fantastic party, right?”

Zayn sighs and shakes his head. “No, mate. I mean.” _Literally_ , he thinks. Aloud he says, “I mean I’ve been here before. This has happened before. All of it. Last night.”

Harry frowns. “Are you on that again? Zaynie. We weren’t here last night. That was another house, another party. I know you were wasted but seriously.”

Harry doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t. Zayn tries again. “Louis is here. And Liam. They’re both here, right where they were before.”

Harry lights up at that and grabs Zayn’s arm in a tight grip. “Show me. Now.” He pauses to add. “Sorry. I am, really. I didn’t think they would, show up. You know.”

Zayn sighs. He knows.

And then they’re back again, standing in front of a happily surprised Louis and a stone-faced Liam, but this time, Zayn has the upper hand, or so he thinks.

“Hi,” he says. And he’s nervous. He’s actually nervous talking to this boy who has kissed every inch of his body, who has held him when he’s cried. I’ve been inside you, he wants to say, I’ve been inside you and you don’t want me anymore and something very strange is happening and I don’t know who to talk to about it.

Liam raises his eyebrows and some of the stony anger in his expression fades. A bit. “Hi,” he says, but it looks like it pains him to say it. He also looks…wary. Nervous, too, maybe. Confused? Everything Zayn is feeling he thinks he can see mirrored in Liam’s beautiful, still face. Zayn shakes his head, trying to clear it. He wants to say something, anything, he wants. He wants. But too late, it’s happening again, just like before.

“Two minutes everyone!” someone shouts above the noise. Beside him Harry shuffles closer to Louis, pelvis tilted out a bit in some bizarre mating dance. Zayn sighs.

Liam closes his eyes and sways slightly. “Why is this happening again,” he says, quietly, but Zayn hears him.

“Liam,” he says, louder, a suspicion churning in his gut. “Liam. What do you mean?” He moves closer, closer, closer than he’s been in weeks. He can smell Liam’s cologne, his skin, his Liam-ness and the scent overwhelms him, makes him feel dizzy. “What do you mean?” he asks again, more urgently.

Liam shakes his head. “I don’t know. Something. Something’s wrong.” He looks right at Zayn then, and Zayn can see it in his eyes, and he knows, he _knows_. At least he thinks he knows. But it can’t be possible. It’s impossible. This whole fucking mess is one big impossibility.

Isn’t it?

10-9-8—

“Have we been here before?” Zayn puts his mouth right against Liam’s ear. Liam shivers but doesn’t move away. “Just like this. Have we?”

—7-6-5—

Liam shakes his head. “What? What is it? What’s happening?”

—4-3—

Liam clutches Zayn’s arm so hard it hurts. “I don’t understand—”

—2—

“ _Zayn_.”

1—

 

//

_I know you’re driving yourself crazy_  
_Thinking that time has passed you by_  
_And you’re not close to where you said you’d be_  
_But tell me, who is in this life?_

//

**6— LIAM**

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Bounce.

“Go away Louis.”

“No.” Bounce.

“I don’t want to do this again.”

“Do what.”

Bounce. Bounce.

“I just want to sleep.”

“Sleep, like making New Year’s Resolutions, is for the weak. Get up get up. It’s late. It’s like 4 p.m. Let’s eat.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Let’s drink then.”

“God no.” Liam burrows deeply under his pillow, keeping a death grip on it. Louis doesn’t attempt to throw it.

This time.

“Hair of the dog, mate.” Louis bounces so hard Liam hears something crack. “New Year’s Eve tonight. Can’t miss it.”

Liam rolls over and sighs from the bottom of his soul. “No. Apparently I can’t.”

//

“Oh look,” Liam says flatly. “It’s Zayn. What a surprise.”

Louis glances over, raises his eyebrows, looks back at Liam’s resigned expression. “I must say, you’re taking this exceptionally well.”

Liam shrugs. “Sure. Why not.” He takes a long drink of whatever’s in his cup. Louis slaps his back.

“Proud of you, Li. That shows real growth and maturity. It really does.”

“Uh huh.” Liam drinks again, then grabs another one for good measure. Zayn keeps watching him, but his expression is different, less angry and more curious. Endearing as fuck. He watches as Niall slams into Zayn’s side, spilling beer everywhere and Zayn looks angry but then resigned and he even laughs and shakes his head at himself, like he should have known, and even that is endearing. After Niall staggers off Liam takes a breath and throws all caution to the wind and blows Zayn an exaggerated kiss. Louis spits out what’s in his mouth and starts coughing uncontrollably.

“I take it back,” he says between gasps.

But Zayn hardly reacts. He just sighs and his shoulders drop and he shakes his head and turns to leave. And what the fuck, Liam thinks. He’s so tired, so tired of this party of this house of these people of this _night_ and tired of Zayn and how it all ended and he just wants answers. So, he chases after him. He gets up right behind him just before he gets to Harry in the kitchen and he grabs Zayn’s arm and pulls it, harder than he means to, because Zayn skids to a halt and turns, startled, even more startled when he sees who it is.

“Liam,” he says, and oh, just hearing Zayn say his name makes Liam’s pulse stutter, makes his face flush. And he must be getting drunk because now that he has Zayn’s full attention he has absolutely no idea what to say.

“Lou said you wouldn’t be here tonight,” is what he comes up with. Zayn doesn’t move, doesn’t pull his arm away, just stands there staring with a shuttered expression on his beautiful face. The skin of his arm is smooth and warm and Liam fights the urge to run his hand up and down, up and down.

“Surprise,” Zayn says. Neither of them seems to know what to do after that, but Zayn still doesn’t pull away. Liam can hear Harry’s voice behind them, singing, laughing, talking about wanting to snog Louis at midnight. He wonders vaguely if he should let Louis know what’s on Harry’s mind. It’s something he’s sure Louis would appreciate knowing.

“Did you want something, Liam?” Zayn says, ever so polite, ever so distant, ever so cool. His arm is starting to tremble against Liam’s hand. Liam casts about wildly for something to say.

“Yeah. You should have worn the plaid shirt. The red and black one. You look fucking hot in it.” He takes a deep trembling breath, playing on a hunch, thinking back to how Zayn had looked last night, the questions he’d asked with his mouth so close to Liam’s ear. “Maybe tomorrow night, yeah?”

And with that he gives Zayn’s arm one small squeeze and turns and walks to grab another beer.

Liam refills his cup, and again. And again. Slams into the crowd of dancers, forgets everything for awhile, tries to forget where he is (again) and what’s going to happen (again) because if he’s doomed to repeat it why not try to enjoy it, even a little bit? And when the nameless faceless reveler inevitably shouts “Two minutes everyone!” Liam raises his cup and shouts along with everyone else. And as he’s being shoved and pushed and he’s sweating and being sweated on he remembers Louis’ wise words of finding someone to snog. Someone. Anyone. Preferable a someone who doesn’t look at him like he wishes he was dead.

And there’s a girl right there, right in front of him who is smiling at him and dancing with him and he thinks, ok, why not, let’s do this and—

10-9-8—

He smiles and she moves closer, puts her hands on his waist—

7-6-5—

He pulls her closer, head spinning, colours swirling—

4—

And there’s another body rightthere suddenly, a body so familiar and solid and lovely it fills Liam with a sudden pang and ache of loss, but the girl moves closer still—

—3-2—

And then the voice, the sweet, familiar voice, yelling right at him—

“ _Liam wait_ —“

1—

//

_Before we lose everything we have tomorrow_  
_Can we forget what went wrong yesterday, so darling_

//

**5— ZAYN**

The world is very bright and very painful and Zayn doesn’t even have to wonder, doesn’t have to ask, not anymore because the two bodies are nestled next to him and there’s tea and his head hurts and his heart hurts and he closes his eyes and starts laughing.

“That’s right, wood-chuck chuckers, it’s Groundhog Day!” he says, raising his mug in a toast.

“You ok, there?” Harry says, glancing up at him.

“Never better,” Zayn says, sipping his tea. Just perfect. Harry always makes it perfect. He laughs again.

“Ok. Good. Don’t scare me like that. What are you gonna wear?” Harry asks, getting down to business. “You look fucking sexy in that—”

“Black skull T-shirt. Right. Thanks, but no. Going with something a little different this time around I think.”

Harry blinks at him slowly. “How did you know—”

“This time around?” Niall frowns.

“I meant tonight. Something different tonight,” Zayn says. He feels a small hysteria building in his stomach. “I got a special request.”

//

He’s watching Liam from across the room but this time manages to neatly sidestep a very drunken Niall before he can plow into him. Niall stumbles but catches himself, spilling beer all over the floor. Zayn gives himself a mental high-five.

“Niall.” Zayn slings an arm over Niall’s hot, sweaty shoulders, pulls him close.

“Yeah buddy?” Niall, sweet, kind, happy, stinking drunk Niall. 

“You ever wonder if you’re losing your mind?”

“All the time, Zaynie. All the damn time.” He kisses Zayn on the cheek. “But, the good news is if you’re asking yourself that question, you probably aren’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Niall says. He seems to ponder it for a moment. “I mean, I sure hope so.”

Zayn nods. Niall glances over to where Zayn is looking and gives his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Sorry, buddy,” he says. Zayn nods. “But you should go talk to him, yeah? Make amends? Even just say hi. No hard feelings and all that shit. It’s good luck to start a new year with a clean slate.”

“Clean slate.” Zayn nods again. “Yeah. Maybe I will,” he says, and gives Niall a little smile. He watches Liam for a bit longer and Liam watches him back before he leaves Louis’ side and disappears into the crowd.

He tracks Liam to the kitchen eventually, refilling his cup for the sixth time probably, judging by how unsteady he is on his feet. Zayn sidles up next to him, close enough to almost touch.

“Hey,” he says, casual as anything. Liam turns and sees him and tries to focus and doesn’t even look surprised. He even smiles a little, looks at Zayn’s chest. He opens his mouth to say something but Zayn beats him to it.

“Come here often?”

Liam laughs aloud at that and the sound sparks an ember in Zayn’s stomach, glowing up and out until his entire body is alight.

“I sure seem to,” Liam says. His voice is loud. “Lately, yeah. I sure seem to end up here a lot.” He laughs. They stare. Liam sways a bit.

“Your shirt,” he says. 

“What about it?” Zayn says. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling beneath the red-and-black plaid.

“It’s different.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth Zayn takes a faltering step backwards and covers his face with his hands. “I like it.” He nods with approval, sways some more. “It’s nice to know you still care about what I think.”

“Oh my god I knew it. I knew it.”

“Knew what?” But Liam’s expression shows he knows exactly what. Zayn grabs Liam’s sweaty hand and pulls him through the kitchen, out onto the small porch out the back door. It’s freezing. It feels good. Zayn pulls out a cigarette with trembling fingers and lights it. He offers one to Liam, who takes it.

“It’s freezing,” Liam says. He’s pretty astute for a drunk person. He’s also shivering which is probably how he knows.

“Coldest night of the year, according to Harry.”

Liam hums. “So why are we out here, then?”

“We need to talk.”

Liam hums again. He smokes and stares at his feet, then at the night sky, then at Zayn’s left ear. “What on earth would we need to talk about? We haven’t needed to talk in—”

“Seventeen days.”

Liam finally meets Zayn’s gaze. He hums again, quieter, takes a long drag on the cigarette.

“You kissed that girl.”

“What girl?”

“You know what girl. Last night. Whatever night. That other night.” Zayn closes his eyes. He can’t think. He can’t keep anything straight anymore.

“What are you talking about?” Liam won’t look at him.

“You know what I’m talking about. You have to.” Zayn takes a deep drag, tries to calm his nerves. This is insane.

Liam is still drunk but he nods. “Ok. Maybe. Maybe I do.” He smokes and thinks. “So I kissed her. Is that why we’re out here? I’m cold Zayn.”

“No Liam. We’re not out here on fucking New Year’s Eve because you kissed some random girl last night. Tonight. I don’t even know. We’re out here because I know it happened. And it hasn’t happened yet. Or it will. it keeps happening. Over and over. And I thought it was just me and it’s not. It’s you, too, and that’s even more fucked up than just me.” Zayn is talking too fast and his head is spinning and smoke is filling his lungs but it’s not helping. Nothing is helping.

Liam drops his smoke and grinds it under his boot. He’s still swaying a bit. And he’s still shivering. Fuck it, thinks Zayn. In another lifetime he’d wrap his arms around him and hug and kiss him to keep him warm. Instead he leads him back to the front room with all the drunken people and the booming music and Zayn is yelling to be heard.

“Dance with me,” Zayn says, grabbing Liam’s hips, pulling him close. “Let’s pretend you never broke up with me. Just for tonight ok?”

He doesn’t hear Liam’s response. He focuses instead on the movement of Liam’s hips, pressed up close against his. They fit so well like this, they always did. A few more sways, a few more beats of music, Liam’s hands on Zayn’s hips, squeezing tight and Zayn feels himself get hard. Fuck.

“I didn’t break up with you,” he hears Liam mutter and Zayn tries to ignore that because if he responds it will be angry and annoyed and maybe tonight he can just forget.

10-9-8—

Liam is so close. So very close. All he has to do is reach out and grab him, pull him closer, tilt his head just so, just like they used to, all the time

“You’re the one who dumped me, remember?” This time Liam is loud and clear.

—7-6-5—

“What?” Zayn startles. “The hell I did. Have you lost your mind?”

—4—

“Look around, Zayn,” Liam yells. “Yeah. Yeah I think I actually have.”

Zayn pulls back, face gone hard and dark again. How could Liam not remember. How could he not know what happened, how he broke Zayn’s heart, how Zayn still cried almost every day and would never get over it.

And will this night ever fucking _end_?

—3-2-1—

//

_The world isn’t over yet_  
_We’ve still got a chance to place our bets_  
_We both made a little mess_  
_Nothing our two hearts can’t put back_  
_I’ll never love you less_  
_Don’t let your worries second guess_  
_We’ll start over fresh, living a life with no regrets_  
_Living a life with no regrets_

//

**4— LIAM**

“It’s New Year’s Eve day, isn’t it?” Liam is awake and staring at the ceiling when Louis bounds into the room. He skids to a stop and looks vaguely disappointed, like he had been looking forward to waking Liam from a sound, hungover sleep and Liam ruined it.

“Yes. Yes it is, mate. You up for it?”

Liam shrugs and laughs. “Sure. Every night, it seems.”

//

Zayn is waiting for him, finds him as soon as he walks into the house. He grabs his hand and pulls on it, hard. Louis makes a surprised face but then gives Liam an exaggerated thumbs up and a big wink, like “Way to go, mate.”

Liam follows Zayn in a zigzag fashion through the crowds, the noise the sticky floors, same songs same people. He even waves at a few he’s become quite fond of. They’re drunk so they wave back. They stop at the end of a long, shadowed hall, outside a closed door, Liam assumes it’s a bedroom, he hasn’t checked yet, maybe tomorrow night. He fights back a dark laugh, bites his lip hard as Zayn stares at him, serious and frowning..

“I’ve been thinking,” Zayn says.

“Ok,” Liam says. He’s tired. Tired of this but not tired of Zayn. Seeing him every night like this is not nearly as horrible as he’s made it out to be. Just holding his hand as they made their way to this spot has been the highlight of today. This day. He bites back another laugh. He makes a small strangled noise. Zayn raises an eyebrow but says nothing about it.

Zayn takes a deep, slightly wavering breath. “I think we’re supposed to, like, make up, you. Like get over it, this whole…thing, and move on. Clean slate.”

“Clean what?”

“It’s something Niall said. Starting the new year with a clean slate. And I have to admit it kind of makes sense. I think it’s the reason maybe we’re…stuck here. I’ve been so hurt and angry and upset—”

“You have?”

“Yeah, Liam,” Zayn’s eyes flash. “I have. Ask Louis.” And in a much quieter voice. “You really hurt me.”

“I hurt _you_?” Liam knows he sounds like an idiot but he really cannot believe this conversation. It’s beyond ridiculous.

“And I haven’t forgiven you, in like, my heart, and so I think I have to do that. Forgive you.” He peers up at Liam through his fringe.

“Forgive _me_?” is all Liam can come out with. He doesn’t want to laugh any more. Now he just wants to put his fist through the wall. Like George.

Zayn crosses his arms and waits, face stormy.

“Look Zayn, I don’t have a clue why this is happening or how to fix it but if you think you’re going to pin this mess on me—”

“I’m not pinning anything on you!” Zayn’s voice gets louder and angrier.

“You think we’re reliving this stupid night over and over because I dumped you. Which I did not.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it.”

“Ok. I’m calling it _you_ dumping _me_ then. That’s what I’m calling it.” Liam crosses his own arms in an exaggerated mirror of Zayn. Zayn puts his arms at his side.

“I’m just trying to fix this,” Zayn says, his voice soft. “That’s all. So we can both. I dunno. Move on.”

“Move on,” Liam says. He knows he keeps repeating Zayn. He can’t stop. He shakes his head, defeated. “Is that what you want?”

“Well it’s better than this, isn’t it?” He stares at Liam. He waits for a response. And softer, “Isn’t it?”

Liam shrugs. “So what. You want us to just kiss and make up then?” He smiles and waits for Zayn to laugh or roll his eyes, anything to relieve the unbearable tension.

“Yes,” Zayn says instead. “Yes. Exactly that.”

“Wait. What?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need to do,” Zayn says, slowly and quietly.

“What, kiss?”

“Yeah.” Zayn nods, watching Liam carefully for his reaction. Liam bites his bottom lip, sucks it in, lets it out. He shrugs, hoping it looks nonchalant. His heart is fluttering against his ribs. He can’t breathe steadily.

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. “Whatever. It might work, right?”

“Ok then. Are you ready?” Zayn licks his lips.

Liam licks his own, reflexively. “Uh. I guess? Are you just gonna like—”

Zayn moves closer, puts his hands on Liam’s shoulders, light as air. He leans up and in, closer still. Liam nods ok, ok.

Zayn nods, too, eyes dark and serious. “Yeah. It might work.”

—3-2-1—

//

_The world isn’t over._  
_We can always start over_  
_No weight on our shoulder_  
_The world isn’t over, darling_

//

**3— ZAYN**

It doesn’t work. 

“I think I’m done,” Zayn says to the ceiling. Niall pokes his side, hard. Zayn doesn’t even flinch. 

“Done with what,” Harry says. 

“Like. Everything. I’m just. Done.” Zayn shifts a bit. “Don’t you ever feel like everything you do is pointless and nothing makes any difference? Like no matter what you do or say, how much you try to change the outcome of something, it doesn’t really matter?” 

His words fill the quiet of the room. He can almost feel the weight of his friends’ worry as they absorb what he’s just said. 

”Uh, wow, that’s like, really deep and everything Zayn,” Niall says carefully, “but I really think you just need to get laid.” 

// 

“You kissed me last night.” They’re pushed up close together but not touching in the quietest corner of the house they can find. This time they’re upstairs, unexplored territory. There are plenty of partiers, but they’re not quite as frenzied as the ones down below. They can almost talk without yelling. Liam says it like he angry, but intrigued as well. Zayn can feel the heat radiating off Liam’s skin and it’s taking every ounce of his strength not to touch him. The slope of his cheek. The slightly sweaty hollow at the base of his throat. His shoulder, his wrist, his hip. He remembers everything, how it used to be, the taste of his bottom lip after he’d sucked on it for too long, the shake of his thighs clenched around his hips, the arch of his back when he slid in. All of it. 

“You kissed me back.” Zayn pauses. “Like you meant it.” 

“Who says I didn’t mean it?” 

Zayn looks at him. 

“Did you? Mean it?” 

Liam doesn’t answer that. Zayn didn’t really expect him to. He crosses his arms tighter. He likes this position. It feels good, like he’s holding himself together and holding Liam at bay. It’s safe. 

“It was your stupid idea.” Liam says this softly.

“I thought it would work. I thought it would fix things.” 

“Well,” Liam flings his arms out, indicating everything. “Clearly it didn’t.” 

“Clearly,” Zayn says, his voice dripping sarcasm. They stare at one another. Zayn breaks first, looking down and away, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Look. Liam. I have no clue what’s happening, or why it’s happening, but it seems we’re stuck in this together, for however long, so maybe we should just try to get along, right. It’s not impossible.” He pauses. “We used to get along. Really fucking well.” 

He peeks up at Liam’s face to see how he’s taking the suggestion. Liam is sucking on his lower lip and nodding slightly. 

“You’re wearing the shirt again,” he says, peeking at Zayn. “It looks good. You look good. Like in it. You look good in it.” 

Zayn can feel the heat in his cheeks. He slides down the wall, exhausted, sits with his legs bent and watches as Liam does the same. They sit against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, the beat of the music thumping against their backs. 

“I just. I really miss you. Like.” Liam sniffs. His cheeks are red and his eyes are watery and Zayn just wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss him all over. “You keep saying things that don’t make sense, but I can’t even argue with you because I don’t remember. I remember so much good stuff about us and then I can’t remember how we ended up like this.” 

Zayn pushes up closer against him and rests a hand on top of Liam’s bent knee. He lets his head bump against Liam’s and they sit like that, listening, waiting. 

“Maybe it’s just gonna be like this forever,” Zayn says. There’s a huge noise from below, breaking glass, followed by yelling and then laughing. 

“George,” they both say together. Then sigh. 

“Poor Louis and Harry,” Liam says after a bit. He’s covered Zayn’s hand with his own, plays with Zayn’s fingers a bit. Zayn lets him. 

“What?” 

“Well Lou’s just desperate to kiss Harry and we’ve just fucked it all up for them, I reckon.” 

“Yeah. Harry, too. God. He’s so smitten. It’s kind of pathetic.” 

“Pathetic,” Liam says, lacing his fingers between Zayn’s. “We are too, I guess. When you think about it.” 

Zayn rouses himself. He was feeling so relaxed and happy, just like he used to around Liam. “How’s that?” 

“We’re stuck here, it looks like. For however long. And we’re wasting time. We’re fighting and we could be doing other stuff. Better stuff.” 

“Funner stuff,” Zayn says, smiling. "Like we used to.” 

“Like we used to.” Liam grabs Zayn’s hand, holds it hard. He leans over and kisses him, right there on the floor of the hallway, surrounded by strangers who aren’t strangers, in a house both foreign and familiar. Kissing Zayn feels exactly like it used to though, safe and warm and hot and electric all at once. He doesn’t even care at this point what happened between them. He’s just tired of seeing him night after night, looking so beautiful and not being able to touch him like he wants. It’s some kind of torture, he’s sure. 

So he kisses him now, soft and slow and sweet, the way they used to kiss before it all went so wrong. Zayn moans without realizing it, hands sliding up to cup Liam’s face, his sweetly familiar face, the shape he’d never forget. Zayn’s tongue touches his, brief and hot as lightning and Liam thinks fuckit, swinging a leg over and straddling Zayn fully, pushed together, his hands in Zayn’s hair, down the back of his neck, the bumps at the top of his spine. Zayn arches up into him, bites at Liam’s bottom lip, teeth clicking, noses bumping. Zayn’s hands slip under the hem of Liam’s hoodie, up the sensitive skin of his back, down to the top of his jeans, under the top of his pants. They kiss, breaths pushing against each other, Liam grinding down hard on Zayn’s lap and he’s just about to suggest they move, find that door to the secret room beyond, to the bed or whatever they find there and then voices are getting louder, even from down the staircase they can hear them, chanting, counting, getting louder 10-9-8— 

“Oh no,” Zayn pants into Liam’s mouth. “No. Not yet. I’m not ready yet.” 

—7-6-5— 

For the first time Liam doesn’t want it to end. He wants this night to last forever, because if he could stay here just like this with Zayn like this, hard and wanting and panting against him— 

—4— 

“Liam,” Zayn says, hands digging into the small of Liam’s back, pulling him closer. His eyes are frantic, his fingers hurt with the effort, as if pulling him closer will keep the inevitable at bay. 

—3-2— 

“Zayn, wait,” Liam says and he kisses Zayn hard and harder, pushing down against him, mouth on his mouth, hands on the back of his neck, the sides of his face. “ _Wait—_ ” 

1— 

// 

_The world isn’t over._  
_We can always start over_  
_No weight on our shoulder_  
_Living a life with no regrets_  
_Life with no regret_

// 

**2— LIAM**

The world is very bright and this time they’re both ready. 

// 

They see each other from across the room at a New Year’s Eve party neither of them originally wanted to be at. They smile shyly, like they remember each other oh so well, but don’t know quite how to start again. They do know, however, that it is time to move on, to make some changes. So they gravitate to each other and to the crowds and dance close to one another for awhile. They don’t drink very much because they don’t want to forget anything this time. Eventually they touch, just a bit, hands on waists on shoulders on chests on hands. They know each other so well but this still feels so new and they take it slowly. They laugh when Niall hauls himself on a table and encourages every person in the room to make tonight one to remember. Everyone laughs because everyone loves Niall. They move closer together when Louis and Harry stumble into the spaces beside them. Liam nudges Zayn: _Look_ , he mouths, motioning to their friends. They’re holding hands, grinning stupidly, dancing, touching. 

“See?” Liam says, smiling fondly. “We’re changing things. You and I. Things are changing, yeah? Even a little bit?” 

Zayn nods. “Yeah. Even a little bit is good, right?” 

“I hope so,” Liam says and he pulls Zayn into a sudden, fierce hug, right there, surrounded by all those people in that house. He hugs him tight, face mashed into the side of his sweaty neck. Zayn hugs him back, fingers digging into the muscles between his ribs. He breathes in everything, every bit of Liam he can. He feels Liam’s mouth moving on his skin but can’t hear what he says. It’s ok. He’ll ask him later to repeat it. 

When they tire of dancing they wander for a bit, hands together, fingers entwined, saying hello, giving high-fives to anyone who wants one. They find themselves, eventually, outside the closed door. Liam leans against it heavily, closes his eyes. He’s tired, but not sad for once. Zayn keeps watching him. 

“You know,” he says. “If this is it. If we’re stuck here forever it’s ok. Because we’re together at least, right?” 

Liam smiles at that, squeezes Zayn’s hand. “I can think of worse fates,” he says. 

“No matter what happens, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever known,” Zayn says. He kisses Liam’s cheek. 

“Not always,” Liam says. He frowns. “Sometimes I can be mean.” 

“Everyone can, sometimes,” Zayn says. “But if you realize it and try to fix it, well.” 

Liam nods. “Yeah.” He smiles. “I love how you always listened to my stories and asked questions and never made me feel stupid.” 

“I miss your stories,” Zayn says. 

“I have lots more.” 

“Good. Because we have time.” Zayn laughs. “I love how you love your family.” 

“Your creativity amazes me.” 

“You’re both cute and hot. At the same time. It puzzles me.” 

Liam laughs and pokes his side. “I used to watch you sleep sometimes. But not in a creepy way. Like, I never took photos or anything.” 

“You could have.” 

“Ok. Maybe I took one.” 

“Good.” 

They stand in the hallway, just looking at each other. 

“Hi,” Zayn says, at last, sounding shy. When has he ever been shy? He sounds shy. 

“Hi,” Liam says back. He moves closer. “Have I ever told you how good this shirt looks on you?” 

“You might have. Fairly recently, I think. And yes. It’s why I wore it, silly.” 

Liam kisses him then, soft but harder than before. There’s an intensity there that’s new, that Zayn hasn’t felt in so long. Their bones are vibrating. 

“You know I love you, right?” Zayn says suddenly. “You know that?” It’s important that Liam knows this thing, this one thing. He has to know. “And I’m sorry about all of this. All of it. Whatever it is. I’m—” 

“I said this earlier,” Liam says, laughing. “I said this when we were dancing. But I was too scared to say it too loud. All of it. I love you. Sorry. Sorry. I love you.” 

“Liam—” 

Liam nods at the door. “Yeah?” 

He opens it and Zayn backs him into the quiet and dark of the bedroom, hands and mouth intent. Liam’s legs hit the edge of the bed and they fall backwards together in the dark. Zayn knows this body, though, knows every angle and soft spot and the places in between. 

Outside the room they can hear the people getting louder and more excited as the moment approaches. It’s almost time. Liam can feel it in his bones. He grabs Zayn in the darkness, hands sliding against slick skin, the trembling and the pattering of his heart under his sharp ribs. He presses his lips to anything he can reach. He can feel Liam hard in his jeans and that thought alone would be enough to get him off tonight. He kisses down Liam’s trembling chest, slides his hands up under his hoodie, feels his nipples tighten under his fingertips. He knows what Liam likes. He undoes Liam’s jeans and pulls them down, Liam shuffling awkwardly and huffing out a laugh. Zayn presses his face to his groin and just breathes. Liam bites back a groan, hands in Zayn’s hair. 

Zayn sucks at Liam’s cock, everything damp, while Liam writhes beneath him. He slides his pants down, too, takes him in his mouth and it’s all so familiar, the scent, the taste, the sound of Liam’s voice gone all hoarse in the dark, teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut. Zayn bobs and licks until Liam pulls free with a groan. 

“Wait, wait,” he says and pulls Zayn up to lie beside him,. Then he’s sliding down Zayn’s body, yanking his jeans and pants down, taking him in own warm, wet mouth, sucking until Zayn is right there on the edge, faster than he ever has, coming with a shout muffled against his forearm, bucking up and shaking against’ Liam’s face. When he can breathe again, he takes Liam in his hand and kisses him, pulling and stroking him through to the end, fireworks and all. They lie against each other, panting. 

“You know I love you, right—” 

“I know. I know. And I love you, ok? So much. More than anything.” They’re both talking very fast. Zayn grabs him hard and pulls him close, knees and elbows banging in the dark, softening cocks rubbing against one another, sparking interest sooner than expected. Zayn pulls him close, rubs his forehead against Liam’s shoulder. The voices outside get louder, louder still. 

—7-6-5— 

“It’s all going to be ok, right?” 

“Yeah, of course it is, yeah.” 

“Promise?” 

—4-3-2— 

“ _Promise._ ” 

Zayn finds Liam’s lips in the dark at the last moment. They kiss and kiss and kiss and— 

// 

**1—**

The world is pale and calm and warm. Liam doesn’t want to open his eyes because he’s had the best dream ever and he wants to hang on to the images for as long as possible. He wants to remember how Zayn felt under his hands and his mouth, and how he smelled and how he moaned and everything, everything all of it. Liam pulls the covers over his head and twists and turns, trying to get comfortable so he can fall back to sleep and have the wonderful dream again. If he does it fast enough, it might just happen. 

“Stop squirming,” a voice says, low and soft and sounding about as grumpy as he feels. Liam opens his eyes. 

“Hi,” he says. He sounds stunned and stupid. 

“Hi,” Zayn says back. 

They stare at one another for a full minute. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” Liam says. 

“Maybe. Not in a creepy way, though. No photos.” 

Liam smiles and waits. 

“You’re just as restless a sleeper as ever,” Zayn says at last, but he’s smiling, just a bit. “You woke me up. I was having a really good dream, too.” 

Liam doesn’t know what to say. He reaches out and pokes Zayn, softly, in his bare shoulder. The skin there is warm and soft and supple. 

“You’re real,” Liam says. 

“Do you want to hear my dream?” Zayn says. He moves closer. His bare toes press against’ Liam’s bare shins. Liam pulls the blanket away and looks down at himself. He’s naked. “I’m naked, too,” Zayn says and now he’s really grinning. Liam nods. Ok. Ok to their shared nakedness and ok to hearing about the dream. Ok to all of this, really. 

Zayn moves closer still. He puts a warm hand on Liam’s chest. He can feel Liam’s heart beating. He presses a bit harder. “I dreamed we had broken up over something really stupid that neither of us could remember. I dreamed we were both sad and lonely and miserable and our friends were mad and frustrated and miserable and fed up with us. I dreamed it was New Year’s Eve and our wonderful, terrific, idiotic, completely conniving, understandably fed up friends lied to both of us and dragged us to the same party.” 

“I think I’ve had this dream before,” Liam whispers. He can’t stop smiling. His face hurts. “It sounds very familiar.” 

“I know.” Zayn nods. “And I dreamed we met at this party and we were supposed to figure shit out but because you’re so stubborn and full of pride—” He kisses Liam, softly, on the lips. 

“Because _you_ are—” Liam kisses him back, just as softly. 

“Because we’re _both_ so stubborn and stupid, but especially you, we kept messing it all up and because of our shared stubbornness—” _Kiss, kiss._

“But especially yours—” _Kiss._

“We kept living the same night over and over and over until—” _Kiss, kiss, kiss._

“We finally got it fixed.” 

They smile at each other, soft and quiet. Then the bedroom door bangs open, slamming against the wall and three loud people are in their space, bouncing around them, making more noise than should be possible. 

“Happy New Year!” Niall bellows. 

“It’s New Year’s Day,” Harry says, by way of explanation. 

Zayn and Liam look at each other. They start laughing. “It’s New Year’s Day,” says Zayn. 

“It is,” says Liam. “It really is.” They keep laughing. The other boys start laughing. They’re all laughing. 

“Why is this funny?” Louis says. 

“Guess who kissed last night!” Harry says, and he pulls Louis into a tight hug. Niall yanks the blankets back. 

“Guess who did more than kissed last night,” he says. 

"I knew it would all work out," says Harry. He looks at Zayn and Liam and his smile is so fond. 

“How did you two even get back here last night?” Louis says. “Nobody saw you leave.” 

Zayn and Liam look at each other. “The universe works in mysterious ways.” 

“It’s true,” Niall says. He nods. “It really is true.” 

Then they nicely kick their friends out and pull the blankets up and roll into each other. As the light lengthens and fades, Liam pulls Zayn over and on top of him, wraps his arms around him and pulls him tight, tighter. Zayn pushes his face into the warmth and slightly sweaty crook of Liam’s neck and just breathes. In out. In out. They lie in the quiet of the room, chests rising and falling, skin to skin. Liam lets his hands run up and down Zayn’s back, down to the swell of his arse, but not lower, not now, not yet. He just wants to kiss him all over, really. There are a whole lot of things he wants to do. 

In good time. 

Zayn startles, and Liam knows he’s been drowsing. 

“I’m so tired,” Zayn says into Liam’s neck. 

“I know. Me too.” They roll again and lie side by side, Zayn at Liam’s back, arms snaking around his chest, head pressed against the back of this neck this time. 

“Happy New Year,” Liam says, and he’s smiling. He’s smiling a lot today. It feels good. 

“Happy New Year,” Zayn mumbles, fingers stroking over Liam’s chest. They breathe. 

“Louis says resolutions are stupid and for the weak,” Liam breathes into the air. “But I think we should resolve never to break up again.” 

He feels Zayn nod against his back. 

“Yeah. Ok. Good. Very good.” 

They sink deeper. 

“Why did we break up in the first place?” Zayn whispers just before they fall asleep. Liam doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t matter. 

That’s a story for another day. 

// 

_Lyrics from No Regrets by Magic_


End file.
